


It's All About the Rhythm

by casey270



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Nothing but crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: (315): i fell off the bed in the middle of it, and he yelled "5 second rule" and kept fucking me. i think im in love</p>
<p>Sometimes, it's too good to stop for anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All About the Rhythm

Tommy knows it’s all about the rhythm. Everything in his life is based on finding the right rhythm. There’s a rhythm in breathing, a rhythm in a beating heart. There’s rhythm in the earth, telling him when to eat and when to sleep. There’s a magical rhythm in music, and he fucking needs that one. Music is like the rhythm of emotions, played right out loud for everyone to hear. There was a time when he thought music had the best rhythm in the world.

Then he discovered sex.

If music is the rhythm of emotions, then sex is the rhythm of need. It’s more primal, more elemental and basic, and he’s learned he fucking loves fucking - all the fucking. Sometimes it’s slow and measured, each pound of his pulse elongated to catch all the sensations. Other times, it’s wild and driven with a backbeat that intensifies every action.

Whatever it is, it’s not as deep as all that. He just listens for the right pattern, and when he finds it, he knows it fits in his life.

That’s how he knew right from the beginning that Adam was gonna be a big part of his future. They live their lives in the same time signature, always and in all ways.

Take right now, for instance. The bed’s rocking, the headboard hitting the wall in a perfect staccato beat. The poetry of their movements matches the time of the music in his head. He arches up and bears down to meet every one of Adam’s thrusts, their bodies accomplished in this dance of ages and senses. 

Tommy swallows hard as he feels himself sliding across the sheets. It’s so fucking hot when Adam goes into full on caveman mode, taking what he wants, not even realizing that Tommy’s giving it freely. This is the rhythm that Tommy lives for, but things have been known to get carried away. If his mind were working it might be telling him that they’re getting dangerously close to the edge of the bed, but he’s not exactly thinking right now. 

Right in this moment, he’s feeling and absorbing and just fucking being. He’s rocking and rolling and holding and trying his damndest to remember to breathe, just breathe. In and out, one breath after another. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? 

Yeah, right.

His brain is so wrapped up in what Adam’s doing to him, doing _for_ him, that even the simplest things are too much for it to process. Good sex is like good drugs - it takes you out of the confines of your body and all the over thinking shit that goes on.

And great, amazing, mind-blowing sex like this takes you right out of the world. Maybe even the universe. It’s all semantics, anyway, and that’s just too much to try and grasp right now. 

Even with Adam, it’s never been this good before - never this intense or _compelling_. There isn’t even a way to describe it, because there’s nothing to compare it to. Adam knows, fucking knows without being told, just what he needs, just when he needs it.

And judging by the way Adam’s reacting to what he’s doing, Tommy’s pretty much on fleek tonight, too. He knows he’s got Adam on the edge, but he’s holding back, not ready for this to be over any more than Tommy is. 

Tommy knows they can both keep going a little longer, a little more, a little harder and deeper. And if they do, they might even reach nirvana, or some shit like that. It’s like they’re already on a different plane of sexual experience, and nothing can ever touch them again. They’re two, but they’re one in all the right ways.

He could swear that Adam’s making him taste colors and see emotions and feel the music in the fucking. This, right here, is the realest shit he’s ever experienced, and there’s no way in hell that he’s aware of anything that’s not him or Adam.

Tommy’s mind does register when there’s nothing but air under him, though. He knows it has to, because, shit, how could it not? But it’s like an added, trippy sensation that goes along with all the rest of the night. 

He thinks he hears things crashing and other things breaking about the same time his head hits the floor, but the only thing he fixates on is that Adam’s not inside him anymore, and Adam _has_ to be inside him. The fucking gods of syncopation and sex demand it. 

Or maybe it’s just the two of them that demand it. Whatever. He feels like a god tonight, anyway. 

Adam doesn’t waste time, because there’s always the universal five second law, and five seconds is at least three more than Adam needs to get right back where he belongs. Which is having his dick completely buried in Tommy’s ass. 

There’s litter and shit on the floor with them, but Tommy really doesn’t notice because Adam’s hitting that spot that’s so, so sweet for both of them, and the hand that he has wrapped around Tommy’s dick is slipping and sliding and tightening just enough to make Tommy’s head explode.

Except it’s not his head that explodes. It’s his dick and his brain and his whole being. Everything lets loose at once, and he shoots his load of jizz just as Adam’s entire body goes rigid. Tommy swears that Adam’s final push would be enough to send them right off the edge of the world, but they’re already on the floor, so there aren’t really any worries. 

It’s not until later - much, much later - when things like breathing and thinking and life itself settle back into some semblance of order and reality. They’re still on the floor, though. Tommy thinks it’ll be a goddamn long time before he feels like doing anything like moving.

But Adam’s Adam, after all, and Adam can’t stay still forever. Tommy can barely open his eyes, but Adam’s got his phone out, tisking over something. Tommy knows Adam wants him to ask what he’s looking at that’s so interesting, so being the mostly good kind of person that he is, he does. 

“Did you know we had an earthquake?” Adam asks. 

“Didn’t really notice,” Tommy answers, “but can you make sure it happens again, just that same way? That was some totally amazing shit, man.”


End file.
